Chapter 23
Zayd
The cold hits me first, a full-body shiver nearly chasing away the last remnants of sleep.
Groggily, I reach blindly for my mate. She must have rolled over during the night, but body heat is the only way to survive this horrible climate.
My fingers brush against empty space, the blankets carrying her sweet scent long since cold.
I jolt upright, fully awake now as my heart hammers in panic, searching the room.
The smoky, metallic scent of the demon that crawled out of the walls yesterday lingers in the air, but he’s gone as well.
He took her. Right out from under my nose.
A red haze descends over my vision.
Over my dead fucking body.
The bloodlust hits me hard and fast, all-consuming, and I temporarily black out.
When I come to, my heart sinks as I absorb the damage I did without recollection of a single moment of it.
Deep slashes rake down the walls of the hallway, as if I were trying to claw the demon back out of them.
Even I know that doesn’t make sense. If he were hiding my mate within the walls, I’d be able to scent her. Hear her.
I’ve been feeling more like my old self the last few days, able to hold onto my thoughts for longer stretches.
The rage had all but been doused to a low simmer, as if simply breathing in the air around my mate was healing the damage.
I clasp my head between my hands, bowing over in silent, futile desperation.
I can’t go back to the feral beast I was when she found me, need to keep my shit together.
She deserves far better, a mate she’s proud to stand beside, and I will become that man again.
But right now? She needs a sign I’m not a lost cause, and I’m not about to throw away what may very well be my only chance of redemption. She needs me; I can’t let her down.
Wincing at the bitter cold, I rummage through the house until I find some stretchy pants and tug them on, but they’re skin-tight and dig painfully into my waist.
Better than freezing my dick off again.
Tugging the blanket she slept under free from the nest, I wrap it around my shoulders.
It’ll help break the wind, and hopefully, being surrounded by her scent will keep my mind clear long enough to find her.
It’s the dark gaps in my memory that truly scare me.
Having no control over my actions… gods only know what happens while I’m out of it.
It was the only way to survive the torture, retreating so far within my mind that I could disassociate and block out the agony my body was enduring.
But even though I’ve physically escaped that hell, my mind hasn’t.
Always on edge, waiting for the next blow to come, for the wave of blistering electricity to seize through my body.
I’m trapped in a constant state of fight or flight, my veins filled with more adrenaline than blood at this point.
I don’t know how to turn it off, but I have to. Somehow.
Because Kiara’s waiting for me.
Feet burning from the frozen concrete, coarse salt biting into my flesh, I follow her scent until a wave of deja vu has me slowing my steps.
Glancing over at a dumpster across a parking lot, I frown, searching my memories.
I get a few fractured snippets; pain, cold like I’d never felt before, a howling storm.
Enough food to remind me I was starving, then… warmth. Softness.
“I’ll leave the back door propped open a bit so you can get in, okay?”
My heart races as I slowly piece together the memory of my mate saving me from death’s doorstep, like an angel of mercy.
She’s too good for this world. Can’t let anyone hurt her.
Determined, I stride forward, shoving open the door on the small building.
Instantly, I’m enveloped in heat and practically groan in relief.
Her scent is stronger now, and my muscles relax automatically.
She’s here. No undercurrent of distress, just her normal bright, bubbly scent. My sweet, beautiful Kiara.
I track her down a hallway, other scents making it too muddled to clearly follow, and open every door I pass in search of her.
A raccoon lunges for my face, and I hastily yank the door shut in the nick of time, a thud followed by angry chittering that makes me hasten my steps.
Empty, empty, empty. On the fifth attempt I’m rewarded with the sight of my mate, and I practically bow over to brace myself on my knees with relief.
The demon didn’t take her; there isn’t even a hint of his scent here.
After the way my mate responded last night, treating him like he was hers?
I’d hate to have to kill him. I actually respect the demon’s skills and appreciate the idea of Kiara collecting more mates to surround herself with, especially in my current state.
All it takes is one of us to fail for her to pay the price.
Maybe I should search out a few contenders to introduce her to for consideration. If she were surrounded by a small army I could trust, maybe my damned feral instincts would release their chokehold on my system.
But all those musings screech to a halt when the faint traces of blood orange and leather have me on the verge of vomiting and I see a strange man touching my mate’s shoulder. A menacing growl tears up my throat with the force of a chain saw.
“Oh shit,” he breathes, yanking my mate behind his back. As if I were the threat she needed protection from.
I may be feral, but even blacked out, I’d sooner tear my own throat out than hurt her. All it means is my shifter instincts are heightened and stuck in distress mode. Caring for my mate is a huge part of those instincts; more powerful than self-preservation.
Lightning. Being dragged across cement. Arctic cold.
Distraught, I mentally glitch out, rage and fear warring within me for dominance. But no matter how much I try to bring myself back from the edge, I can’t. The darkness that infected my mind has me in a chokehold, taunting me. Reminding me that I’m never going to be enough to protect her.
I couldn’t even save myself when it came down to it. Sure, I managed to keep the magic under my protection out of their hands, but at what cost?
“Hey now, easy,” my mate soothes, her hands stroking my arms and bringing her close enough that I can breathe her in. Let it drown out the memories, if only for a little while. “You’re not there anymore, I’ve got you.”
If I thought I was feral before, it’s nothing compared to having her this close, her chest heaving and sweet scent permeating her skin like a beacon calling me.
She gently maneuvers my arm to expose my wrist, lifting her own to display beside mine.
“See? I’m yours, Z, but that means you’re mine too.
And I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again.
” She traces the mark with a featherlight touch, sending a shiver down my spine.
That’s right, she’s mine. All mine. Nobody can take her away from me.
My mouth waters more with every breath, her scent filling my lungs and consuming me, and it’s driving me insane.
“Shit, Kiara, step back slowly. I’ll keep him busy while you slip out the door and grab a tranquilizer. We can keep him locked in here until I figure out what to do with him,” the stranger says.
His voice grates at my nerves, and I tuck my mate behind me, baring my teeth at the threat. He’s just like the others. Wants to drug me and lock me away. Does he know about her healing abilities? Want to use her, hurt her?
Need to get Kiara out of here. We’re already in danger, it doesn’t matter if he finds out what I am anymore.
Mid shift, my mate’s hands clasp my cheeks, her earnest stare locked on my face and gentle touch giving me something to focus on.
“Z, no. No shifting. Stryker’s not going to hurt either of us, and nobody is going to tranq you.
He’s a fr-” she pauses and swallows. “He’s my mate, too.
” Swallowing again, her voice comes out stronger.
“He’s on our team, Z. Just like Devlin.”
The man huffs incredulously. “I’m not sure what kind of team I signed up for, but if the others are anything like Z, I should get better health insurance. Or hazard pay.”
Kiara snorts. “Nah, Devlin’s a sweetheart.
A little socially awkward, doesn’t really care what anyone thinks about him, and I’m pretty sure he's got ADHD or something similar, so is easily distracted.
He's tying up some loose ends at work for the next week or so, but I'm sure you'll cross paths with him soon.”
The son of a bitch sniffing around my mate -Stryker- watches my every move, and I hold his gaze in equal challenge, bracing myself for his attack.
But to my surprise, he eventually releases a heavy exhale, subtly dipping his head with reluctant acceptance.
“You have to be freezing. I have a pair of gym shoes in my trunk you can wear for now.”
Confused at the tension suddenly being sucked out of the room, I warily follow my mate’s lead and take a seat on the metal table in the middle of the room, tugging her onto my lap.
Several moments pass and he makes no move, and it makes me uneasy.
Eyes narrowed in challenge, I lick a path up the column of Kiara’s throat while maintaining eye contact.
If she really chose him as a fellow bondmate, I need to know what he’s capable of for her sake.
Devlin can merge with the walls, and was able to go toe to toe with me.
I can trust he’d be able to hold his own if she were threatened, and would be perfect to gather information or get the drop on an enemy.
He’s useful. If Stryker’s not, I’ll have to adjust defensive plans accordingly.
Rather than accept, though, he just rolls his eyes and speaks to my mate, completely disregarding my challenge.
Dick.
“He hasn’t hurt you?” he demands.